


Can't Buy Me Love

by derryderrydown



Category: British Comedian RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-05
Updated: 2010-06-05
Packaged: 2017-10-09 22:32:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/92302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/derryderrydown/pseuds/derryderrydown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anonymeme prompt: "If you haven't paid for something, you're not going to appreciate it." David is paying Charlie for sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Buy Me Love

The next morning, after Charlie's showered and borrowed underwear and a clean shirt, David calls a cab.

"Shit," Charlie says, looking into his wallet and pulling out the mangled remains of his debit card. "That fucking machine at the pub always rips out the chip. This is the third time." He checks the rest of his wallet. "Better cancel the cab. I'll be on the bus."

"I've got cash," David says, and opens the drawer where he tries to keep an emergency cash fund. For once, he hasn't used it to pay for takeaway, and he hands Charlie a handful of notes.

Charlie gives him an odd look. "It won't be that much," he says, and starts sorting out the notes.

"It's Sunday, Charlie. Where are you going to get more cash before the banks open?"

"Fuck," Charlie says. He stares at the notes in his hand, and David follows his gaze. Three twenties, four tenners and an uncountable crumple of fivers. "I've got to get my sister's birthday present. And I've got no food in."

"Just take it," David says, and then his door buzzer goes and the cab's shown up in less than half an hour, which is pretty much unheard of.

"Thanks," Charlie says as he heads out of the door. "I'll pay you back next time."

"No need," David says, and he has no idea if Charlie heard him. And he has no idea if 'next time' means 'next time we see each other' or 'next time we have sex'.

He doesn't even know if there's going to be a 'next time we have sex'.

* * *

Two weeks and three days later, and David's pretty sure Charlie did hear him because they've been in the pub for over an hour and he's made no move to pay the money back. He hasn't even offered more than getting his round in.

Which is fair enough. David had said to keep the money and Charlie did. Charlie had already thanked him and David didn't actually want grovelling thanks.

"What do you mean, card declined?" Charlie demands at the bar.

"It just says declined," the barman says.

"There's definitely enough cash in there," Charlie says.

"Do you want to try again?" the barman says, bored and heard it all before.

"Yes!" Charlie says, and slams his PIN in angrily. It gets him nowhere.

"Could be a problem with the card," the barman says. "Best to call your bank in the morning. Have you got another card you can use?"

"Fuck," Charlie says, going through his wallet. "No, I haven't." He pulls a handful of change out of his pocket and starts going through it.

David's already on his feet and he stands next to Charlie, hands the barman his own debit card.

"Cashback?" the barman asks.

"Hundred and fifty," David says, because Charlie's going to need more cash.

"Thanks," Charlie says, "I owe you." He stops. "Shit, I do owe you. Why didn't you remind me?"

"It doesn't matter," David says.

And he's fairly sure that Charlie's going to be coming back to his tonight.

He's right.

* * *

He gets a call the following afternoon.

"Some fucking _cunt_ in Bangkok!" Charlie almost yells.

"What about them?" David asks.

"They've stolen all my fucking money!"

It takes a few minutes to sort out that Charlie's debit card has apparently been cloned and somebody in Bangkok has emptied his bank account.

"Probably spent it all on ladyboys and blow," Charlie grumbles.

"At least it's something worthwhile, then," David says, and Charlie actually giggles. "So when do you get your money back?"

"Couple of weeks at least," Charlie says. "Their fraud department's got to make sure that it wasn't me in Bangkok stealing my own money. So I'm having to transfer some from a savings account, which'll take about a week. Fuck, fuck, fuck."

"I can spot you," David says.

"I already owe you - fuck. A fuckload of cash."

"I told you. Forget about it." And he hates that he's reduced to doing this, but it's worth it. "Want to come round to mine tonight? Flatmate Rob's still away."

"Sure," Charlie says immediately. "See you about seven?"

"Seven," David says, and hangs up.

He wonders what male callgirls are called. And what their clients are called.

* * *

Charlie's so enthusiastic that it's easy to forget about the cash. Easy to lose himself in Charlie's hands and mouth - that lop-sided, curling mouth that he can't get out of his mind.

"C'mon, Dave," Charlie says, and David shivers at the uncomfortable intimacy. Nobody calls him Dave. Nobody but Charlie, when he's stradding David's hips, David's cock buried in his arse as Charlie rocks them both slowly and inevitably towards orgasm.

Charlie's hands are on David's chest, ruffling his chest hair, occasionally brushing against his nipples, and Charlie's eyes are closed, his head tipped back.

"Charlie," David gasps, and Charlie's head snaps forward, his eyes open, and he smiles at David. Filthy, debauched smile from reddened lips.

"C'mon, then," Charlie says, and David does.

* * *

"Five hundred tide you over?" David asks in the morning.

It's less awkward, now he knows what the situation is. And if he prefers to think of it as Charlie showing his gratitude, rather than anything more sordid, he's okay with that. It makes it easier to carry on liking Charlie, for a start.

"That's great," Charlie says. "Thanks so much."

"No problem," David says. "Coming by tonight?"

"Sure you're not sick of me?"

"Not yet," David says, and he's aware that he's being more honest than he sounds; that it won't be long until he _is_ sick of this.

"Then I'll be by about five," Charlie says, and he kisses David on his way out. Slow, lingering, _dirty_.

And David knows he won't be able to stop until the sight of Charlie makes him hate them both.

* * *

Flatmate Rob's back by Monday, but it doesn't stop David inviting Charlie to his, and it doesn't stop Charlie accepting.

"I'm pretty sure you could do better," Flatmate Rob says one morning, after Charlie's left, clutching more than enough of David's money to get him to TV Centre.

David just shrugs and Flatmate Rob knows enough to leave it.

* * *

It's Thursday when David answers the phone to Charlie.

"Want to come to mine for a change?" Charlie asks.

"Sure," David says, and realises too late that he won't have the excuse of cab fare for paying Charlie. He hopes Charlie can come up with some other pretence, that he won't flat-out demand cash for the extremely dubious privilege of shagging David senseless. It'd make it impossible for David to keep up the carefully crafted lies he tells himself.

"On the dot of seven," Charlie says.

David finds himself wondering if Charlie has another client before him, and actually kicks himself in the ankle for it. Charlie isn't a rentboy. He's just expressing gratitude. And it'll all end when Charlie gets his money back from Bangkok.

Until then, though... "Dot of seven," he promises.

* * *

He's twenty minutes early, and he hovers round the corner from Charlie's flat for a few minutes, before diverting to the off-licence he knows is round here somewhere. He can at least get in a bottle of wine.

His card is declined.

Declined.

Fuck. He hadn't realised how expensive Charlie was. He hadn't shuffled money between accounts and now _his card has been declined_.

_@VictoriaCoren Spent so much on rentboys that my card was declined when I was buying wine. #middleclassnightmares_

Not a tweet he has any intention of sending.

He has cash, of course - he's not going to visit Charlie without enough cash to make it worth Charlie's while - and he pays and gets out of the shop as quickly as he can, still flushed with the embarrassment of it all. To make it worse, he's pretty sure the guy behind the till recognised him.

He doesn't care that he's still early when he knocks at Charlie's door; barely even notices that Charlie's wearing an apron over a shirt that he doesn't recognise.

"Shit," Charlie says. "Is it seven already?"

"Not quite," David says, and pushes past Charlie.

And stops.

There are _candles_. On the dining table. And the dining table has been cleared of the accumulated junk that's been piled on it for as long as David's known Charlie. It's neatly laid with gleaming cutlery and a _tablecloth_. Where the hell did Charlie get a tablecloth?

"It's not ready," Charlie says, and shuts the front door. "But it's your own bloody fault for being early. You've completely fucked up my attempts to be romantic." But he doesn't sound bothered. Sounds quite pleased with himself.

David doesn't know what to say, so he doesn't say anything.

"I've even got a recipe from my mum," Charlie says. "Don't expect great cuisine though. It's still me cooking it."

"I wasn't expecting this," David finally says.

"It's a surprise," Charlie says. "You weren't supposed to expect it. Drink?"

"Yeah," David says. "Yeah, sure," and hands over his bottle of wine.

"I'll stick it in the fridge," Charlie says, and heads through to the kitchen. "Oh, before I forget," he calls back over his shoulder, "I got my money back. The money I owe you's on the coffee table."

David's feeling light-headed as he sits down on Charlie's sofa. The only things on the coffee table are Charlie's much-hated laptop and a bulging envelope. He's pretty certain this is the tidiest Charlie's flat has been since he moved in.

"I kind of lost track of what I owe you," Charlie says. He's taken off the apron and he's carrying two glasses of wine. "If I need to give you more, let me know. If it's too much, consider it interest."

"Yeah," David says. "Sure."

And everything is rearranging itself in his mind.

Rearranging itself into something that's so warm and shining and wonderful that David can almost understand why people dance.

"I love you," he says. It's abrupt and sudden and out of nowhere.

And Charlie's smile is the most amazing thing he's ever seen.


End file.
